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 Nov 2018
Sjr1000
Two outs
Two strikes
It's all over now

There's a line drive
Down the right field line
One run scores
Two runs score
******* in the bottom of the ninth
On a hot summer night
And childhood
Inside
Never  dies.
 Nov 2018
Cné

The twilight clouds
went scudding past
like witches on their brooms.
The sound of laughter
filled the night
as ghouls departed tombs.

"Trick or treat!"
resounded
as menageries filed by...
Filling up their bags with loot
while candy stores ran dry.

Dentists filled appointments books
in brisk anticipation...
Knowing that enamel
would not stand
such laceration.

Zombies stagger down the street
and vampires trip on capes.
Power Rangers, Ninja Turtles,
Frankenstein escapes!

Princesses and knights with swords,
mummies by the score...
Ghosts and goblins saunter by
and darkened homes ignore.

Masks of every shape and type
monsters and the like...
Arriving via motor pool
on foot, skateboard and bike.

Kids of every age invade
demanding tribute thus...
(Oh dear...
here comes another group
arriving on a bus.)

People donning hobo clothes
adorned in eye-holed sheets...
Wearing out the doorbells
on the darkened,
porch lit streets.

Jack o lanterns
hiss and spit
as candles soon expire.
Children head back home
to count their swag
and then retire.

At last
the tempest peters out.
The pageantry is gone.
I look out
at the candy wrappers
littering the lawn.

Another Halloween is done.
I hope they had their fill.
"Trick or treat!"
still resonates
I hear its echoes still.

But... just around the corner
as Thanksgiving season nears...
We hear the spiels and ads
of all the rabid marketeers.

Turkeys gobble restlessly
at axes sharp and keen...
For them...
this is a nightmare...
just another Halloween.

 Nov 2018
South by Southwest
I knew I was in "purgatory"
I couldn't make up  all the grade/s
Didn't really matter much
My pocketknife had a  broken blade

The "I's" are ever on you
No one hears or cares to understand
The questions put before them
Are lost to time by sand

So fling the words before me
My pearls before the swine
The path placed as pure adjectively
While you sit and mull your time

There was my life before me
In the parking lot of life
A beat up old "63" Rambler
With the "Club" attached  to the steering wheel of strife
 Sep 2018
CommonStory
We leave things up to interpretation
Welcome to the hurtful nation
We give incentive to be alive
Open words to be despised
If you feel free to some advice
Listeners discretion is advised

We're a product if a product
And what the product brought us
Some are lost ones
Some are far from what has really cost some

Dangerous meanings make dangerous species
And what is between us is meaning
Still left to interpretation

Feel free to express
Whatever comes next
But just like a text
We're left to interpret its purpose
So clairty is barely applied
But fairly i should say
It's spread like butter

Because when its left to interpretation
We dont really know one another
Copyright Matthew Marquis Xavier donald 9/17/18
 Aug 2018
Mike Hauser
In the middle of the night
With sleep still in my eyes
I stepped into my kitchen
And received quite a surprise

As I reached out my hand
And flicked the light on
There were balloons, confetti, party hats
With a banner that read -WELCOME HOME-

I'd caught thousands of roaches
In the middle of song
They all turned and looked at me strange
As if I'd done something wrong

I heard a scream from the crowd
A foreign language to me
The next thing I know
I'm knocked down to my knees

As I'm being dragged
Across the linoleum floor
I see a little red button
That opens up a trap door

I started getting real nervous
The deeper we went
If I was a cat with nine lives
I think eight I just spent

They took me before the king
King Ralph Roach was his name
I only knew that
Cause that's what his name tag displayed

I was assigned a public defender
But that did me no good
He spoke Roach, I spoke Human
Each other we never quite understood

"GUILTY!"  Came the verdict
I hollered what was my crime!
"Interrupting a roach in the middle of having a good time"
Came the judges reply

Squishing to be my death
The day after tomorrows last night
I said that doesn't make any sense?!
Hey, we're roaches....we're not known for our timely insight

So here I sit in my cell
Wishing I could take it all back
If I had just not gotten up
For that late midnight snack

Wait....is that a tap, tap, tap
(You didn't think this was the end did you?)
As my hours getting late
A roach we'll call Chester
For anonymity sake

Told me to stop all that blubbering
I've come to break you out of here
I stood and we hugged
Which would be strange if it wasn't so weird

We slipped past room after room
With all kinds of parties inside
One thing you can say about roaches
They know how to have a good time

When we reached the surface
All I saw was blessed heavenly light
I went straight in and packed my bags
And gave the house to my Ex-Wife
(Okay, now it's the end!)
I pride myself on my deep poetic insight...
 Jul 2018
Traveler
To tell me twice
When eye's have said enough
I've read between the unwinding lines
I've no need for less than love

The twitch, the look
Uneven flow
Rest assured
I already know

  And be sure
That they do too
The rest is up to you
Unto thine own self be true
....
Traveler Tim
 Jul 2018
Sjr1000
No Tell Motel
Low rent rendezvous
Johnny and Darcy
Modern romance
She lived at the doctors house
With the loaded gun
Bang.
Both were going out with
Dancin' Doug
Though nobody knew
They always did their dance at noon
Poor Johnny, he always came to soon,
He was from Virginia City, Nv
A small town boy with a cosmic mind
Darcy was a runaway from Wyckoff, New Jersey, escaping her family having an adventure she had no where else to go
They all lived in the dust on
Homer Lane
A dusty dirt road

Dancin' Doug threw a benefit
No one knew what for
He scheduled bands to play
BYOB
Smoke anything tree
The moon was full
The colored lights were twinkling
Dancin' Doug saw Johnny and Darcy
smooching to
A cover of Dancing in the Dark
Maybe it was the Ecstasy
or maybe it was the whiskey
He didn't know what to feel
jealousy, great love, or greed
He took all their money
And danced on
in
the dust
at Homer Lane

Johnny and Sue
Headed on over to room 102
at The No Tell Motel

Another low rent rendezvous.
 Apr 2018
beth fwoah dream
i.

words blur themselves
in the remote reaches
of the mind, verbs
and adjectives search
for voice in a tongue
captivated by ice,
flowering like the
newly blossoming sun.

ii.

frozen,
with the frost
that winter
breathes,
the winter’s silhouette the
ghost of the snow.

iii.

her voice a million
white leaves
learning how to melt
like a little snowman
wrapped in a warm,
red scarf.

iv.

the water breathes
its kiss of ice,

mirrors pressed to
the sky,
white hedgerows
with leaves
that shiver
gathering april's
weak sunlight,

framed like a
watercolour the
shadows of
midnight’s blue inks.

v.

the lake ploughs
its bottle-like
greens, surrenders its
shimmering breath
to the waste land of
the sky.

vi.

love drifts with the seas
where the waves rush
past, a colossal stream
below the blue stars.
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